I was sitting at my desk the other day, lost in some piece of work or other, when one of my colleagues got up to leave the office and suddenly asked me to forgive her. I must have looked a little startled because she stopped to explain that she’s off on a trip to see family Pakistan and it’s traditional to ask people forgiveness before going away. Of course, I said I forgave her for anything she might have done to upset me.
After she left, I stopped to consider if I did have anything to forgive her for and realised that I was in fact still angry with her for coming into work with a very nasty dose of flu last year and giving it to me. I was angry because this meant that I couldn’t visit my dying father for two weeks because he was so weakened by chemotherapy that we couldn’t risk him catching it off me. My colleague couldn’t have known this, but still there was a sense of resentment.
Although it might seem a little strange to me, as a secular westerner, to be asked for forgiveness like this, I found it quite helpful in drawing my attention to this little grudge against her that I’ve been carrying around and in giving me an opportunity to let it go. It’s also refreshing to have such a direct acknowledgement of the possibility of death, something which is just such an enormous taboo in western culture. I hope my colleague comes back from Pakistan safely, but of course, she might not. You never know when death might be coming for you and there’s something very life-affirming about facing this squarely.